


By Proxy

by pianoforeplay



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-31
Updated: 2011-07-31
Packaged: 2017-10-22 01:15:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/232085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pianoforeplay/pseuds/pianoforeplay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared has a little thing for Dean and everyone knows it but him. And Jensen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	By Proxy

**Author's Note:**

> Initially posted [here](http://pianoforeplay.livejournal.com/16446.html) on 2/9/2009.

It's the jacket that does it.

The minute Jared sees the guy slip it on, watches how those shoulders fill out the material almost -- but not _quite_ \-- perfectly, watches the guy duck his face forward, reach back to pop the collar and shit, it's _there_ just like that. _Dean_.

 _Damn._

"Man, how do they do it?" he asks under his breath, still staring as the guy -- _Brock_ , he reminds himself -- leans down to adjust a pant leg, brushes a hand over his thigh. Adam motions him back a step or two, makes him say the line once more without the camera rolling.

For a second, he almost forgets Jensen's sitting next to him until he hears a distracted grunt.

"The casting," Jared says, glancing over to see Jensen poking at his Blackberry with one hand, half-eaten sandwich in the other.

Jensen's eyebrows bunch before he gives Jared a sideways look that reeks of, _What the fuck are you talking about?_ Jared is very familiar with that look.

Pulling his ankle up over his other knee, Jared nods forward. "They always find the perfect fit. That guy could _be_ you ten years ago."

Out the corner of his eye, he can see Jensen shake his head and let out a quick snort.

"You don't think so?" he asks, lips curling in a half smile as he turns his attention on Jensen again.

"No. I don't think so."

"What, not pretty enough?"

"Try _too_ pretty."

"Dude, don't give me that, I've seen pictures," Jared laughs, lowering his voice in an exaggerated drawl. "You were quite a pretty young _thang_ back in the day."

Jensen finally looks up from his phone, one eyebrow arched. "Aw, you don't think I'm young and pretty anymore, Jay?" he deadpans. "I'm hurt, man. Truly. These wounds may never heal."

"You can't tell me he doesn't make a good Dean," Jared says, completely ignoring the remark.

"Didn't say he doesn't."

Jared wants to argue that, but stops when he realizes Jensen's right. Figures.

So, he turns his attention to Brock again, watches the guy roll his shoulders back, stretch out a crick in his neck, mutter a few lines under his breath. It's actually kind of fascinating just how much the guy looks like Jensen. Younger Jensen anyway, before Jared ever knew him. That thought trips him up for a second, makes his lips tug into a slight frown. Because, yeah, he's definitely aware that they've only known each other for a few years, but it just-- it seems like a lot more than that for whatever reason. They've basically been living in each other's pockets for the past four years, so it really only makes sense; Jared's seen more of Jensen than his own _family_ in that amount of time.

The crew goes quieter as Adam gets the camera rolling again and Jared watches, fascinated, as the guy melts into Dean. He must've done his homework or something because he's got the swagger _and_ the quiet vulnerability that Jensen's perfected over the past several years. It's still not-- it's not _quite_ right, but it's damn good and Jared can't stop watching it play out in front of him. The voice is perfect, a low, gruff kind of rumble that's still mellow and subdued in parts, sharp and nearly childlike in others.

Jared's eyes catch on the amulet, drag to the t-shirt beneath, the stretch of it across the guy's chest. Huh. Well, they definitely got someone with the right body type.

"You know, he was on Days of Our Lives, too," he says quietly after Adam calls for a cut.

Jensen takes another bite of his sandwich and still doesn't look up from his Blackberry. "Fascinating."

:::

It's not that Jensen hates the kid or even vaguely dislikes him. In fact, they'd spent a pretty friendly hour or two before rehearsals going over Dean's motivations and mannerisms, his tics and tells. Just the basics, for the most part. (Jared had done the same thing with Colin except, where Jensen had spent his time teaching Brock the language of Dean's inflections, Jared had taken Colin out for a pizza and a movie. Not that he's bitter.) The whole thing had gone well, placing pretty damn low on Jensen's list of Most Uncomfortable Situations Ever, but since then, it's just-- things feel _off_. Somehow.

And not in any way he can really explain.

He and Jared still spend most of their downtime on set, lingering on the edges to watch their younger counterparts with slightly critical eyes. Jared's way more laidback about the whole thing than Jensen, but then Jared also has the luxury of dealing with someone who's already done this. And, yeah, maybe the kid's only twelve, but he's a professional, that's for sure. Nearly as experienced in the business as _Jared_ and the little shit knows it, too. Which, ordinarily, would be kind of annoying except, with Colin, it's more endearing than anything else.

But, _Brock_ \-- okay, the guy's not an idiot by any means and he's clearly taken Jensen's advice and coaching to heart. Jensen catches him practicing a few times, muttering lines of dialogue under his breath as he paces back and forth between the trailers, watches him try out a few of the movements Jensen had shown him.

He's not bad, Jensen'll give him that.

Thing is, Jensen's pretty sure he's not the only one noticing.

:::

Jared drops his heaping plate of food next to Jensen's, fingers plucking an olive out of his salad as he takes a seat. One long leg knocks against Jensen's in the process. "Dude, can you believe Brock's never seen a hockey game before?"

Jensen glances over, one eyebrow raised skeptically.

"Well, he's not Canadian," Jared concedes with a shrug and uses his fork to poke at a pile of steaming meatloaf. "Still pretty sad, though."

"Jay, _you'd_ never seen a hockey game until four years ago," Jensen replies, spears a few carrots and bites them off his fork.

"Not true! I saw a Ducks game with Chad once."

"What? You did not."

"Uh. I think this is my memory, not yours," Jared says with a faint smirk. "It was kind of a last minute thing. His date ditched him or something, can't really remember."

Jensen really isn't sure why it matters whether or not Jared had ever seen a hockey game before flying up to Vancouver, but it _does_. He could swear Jared had told him otherwise back when they'd first started shooting the pilot. In fact, he remembers the damn conversation, the dimpled, embarrassed flush of Jared's cheeks when he'd confessed and Jensen's subsequent promise to fix the sad fact as soon as possible. They'd gotten tickets to a Canucks game the next night, pretty decent seats even and Jared had been hooked ever since.

"Anyway," Jared continues, mouth full of meatloaf, "I thought we could invite him over Wednesday night to watch the game. You know, show him what he's been missin' all his life."

"We?"

"Well-- yeah," Jared says with only the barest flicker of confusion. "I figured your trailer since it doesn't smell so much like wet dog."

Jensen knows it's useless to argue at this point. Even if the idea of it makes something inexplicable twist low in his gut, Jared clearly has his heart set on it. So he shrugs, hunches forward over his plate as he takes another bite of steamed carrot. "Sure."

"Awesome, I'll let him know," Jared says, smile wide before stuffing his face with another forkful of meatloaf.

:::

It's been raining off and on all day, which, of course, is nothing new. The set's well equipped to handle it: cast and crew bundled in warmer, water-resistant clothing and standing under tents where they can, tarps draped over the equipment. After Brock finishes with a scene, Jared calls him over, head ducked against the rain, and invites him to play some Xbox in his trailer while they wait for the next scene to be set up.

He's not at all surprised when Brock takes him up on it.

Jared fumbles with the door of his trailer and then opens it a crack, trying to keep the two dogs just behind it at bay. It's a science he's perfected over the past couple years, knowing exactly how long to keep the door closed before heading up the steps and squeezing through. He herds them back with his legs, both mutts staring up at him adoringly, their tails furiously wagging when he reaches down to pet their heads.

"Hey, not too shabby," Brock says, following just behind him. Harley's ears perk at the unfamiliar voice and he quickly shoves past Jared to meet the newcomer, tongue lolling freely. Jared hears the guy laugh, and turns around to see him grinning brightly at Harley. "Shit, man, you weren't lyin'," he drawls in a slow, almost familiar drawl. "He's huge!

Jared feels an inexplicable heat rush into his face, but he just laughs and nods and reaches forward to shove Harley back down on all fours when he makes an attempt to leap up onto the guy.

"Giant pussy, though," he says as Harley decides to headbutt himself into Brock's stomach, clearly begging for further attention. "Loves absolutely everyone."

Sadie sneaks her way past them, choosing to delicately sniff Brock's pant leg. Or, _Dean's_ pant leg, really, since he's still wearing the clothes.

Brock takes the attention in stride, still smiling wide as he tries to pet them both, looking like Dean in a pastry shop, eyes crinkling at the corners, teeth white and perfect, shoulders filling out the jacket and t-shirt underneath--

Jared catches himself staring and quickly forces his eyes away, heading to the tiny kitchen area. "Want something to drink?"

"Beer?" Brock asks as he drops into a crouch, still petting both dogs at once. And there's something about even _that_ simple movement that screams _Dean_ , the sharp angle of his spread thighs, the display of artfully deliberate dirt on the jeans and the bunch of the jacket at his elbows.

Swallowing hard, Jared forces his attention on his tiny fridge. "Gotta be more specific."

"Uh, Miller?"

"No Miller. Molson's?"

"Works for me."

Jared pops open a can and Brock stands, takes it from him and immediately tips his head back to take a drink. Once again, Jared tries to force himself not to stare, but the bob of he guy's Adam's apple is distracting as hell and Jared's gaze latches and holds on. The skin of Brock's neck and jaw is smooth, way smoother than what Jared's used to seeing on Dean, but that only makes sense. Of course. This is a _young_ Dean, one slightly less cynical, more open and trusting, still a little innocent, a little fresh-faced and inexperienced.

Dean-- _Brock_ lets out a sigh of a breath as he lowers his head, swipes his tongue along his bottom lip and flashes a smile at Jared that rocks straight down his spine. "Hit the spot, man, thanks."

' _No shit_ ," Jared thinks, but manages an, "Anytime," his voice tripping over itself just a little. He flashes his own smile then, trying to cover it up, before snapping open his own beer and taking a quick drink. When he swallows, he notices the guy watching him, gaze a little more intent than before and-- well, his eyes aren't quite the exact same shade of green as Dean's, but... yeah, they're close enough.

Brock's lips tug into a half grin and he cocks his head. "You really pull me in here for Xbox?" he asks, his tone a clear indication that he already knows the answer.

Which, frankly, Jared finds interesting if only because _he_ isn't sure of the answer. Or at least hadn't been up until about one-point-five seconds ago. "Uh," he starts, grip tightening around his beer can for a second before he gives up the pretense and lets out a quick, awkward laugh. "Yeah, guess I'm pretty obvious, huh?"

The guy shrugs, loose and easy, and Jared's stomach does a slow flip. Fuck, the way he wears that _jacket_.

"Nah, I seen way worse," Brock tells him as he takes a step closer, reaches over to rest his can on the counter and then hooks a finger in the belt loop of Jared's jeans. Gives it a tug. Jared barely moves, but he's sure as hell not pulling away, head lowered to stare into those green, green eyes... his gaze occasionally dropping to the guy's full lips and, fuck, he doesn't know what the hell he's doing, but--

A blink, and he's practically throwing his beer can aside, gripping the wet, worn leather of Dean's jacket in both hands and pulling him close. Their lips meet and Jared tastes rain and carrots and a hint of beer. It seems a little weird actually, like maybe he should be tasting pizza and whiskey and blueberry pie or getting a whiff of some random woman's perfume, but Jared refuses to dwell on it, his tongue sweeping in for more and getting plenty in return. Dean-- shit, _Brock_ , lets out a sound that's way too quiet for what Jared's expecting and he growls in response, shoves one hand down between them to palm the front of Dean's jeans, thumb hooking on the top button.

"Jesus," the guy breathes and Jared grins, drags a finger along the zipper as his teeth tug at one obscenely full lip. His other hand fumbles with the material of Dean's shirt, pushes and shoves it higher to finally get at skin, warm and smooth under his touch. Jared has to remind himself that _this_ Dean is younger, doesn't have the scars, the ones both before and after Hell. It's a strange thought, a little jarring even, but Jared only slides his hand higher, palming the guy's-- fuck, _Brock's_ ribcage, feeling every sharp and shuddered breath.

It takes a second or two before Brock seems to get with the program, but then it's just like before, just like the second Adam had called 'Action!' Like flipping a goddamn switch.

Strong hands come up, grab at Jared's water-slicked jacket, fisting and tugging, yanking the zipper down as Jared stumbles back against the edge of the counter, teeth sharp on Jared's lip before releasing entirely, hot breath finding the curve of his neck.

"Ah, fuck," Jared groans, head tipping back as he melts into it, slides his hand up higher still, thumb flicking over one peaked nipple. It earns him a sharp hiss, the sound melting into a growl that shoots straight to Jared's cock, making his hips buck forward as De-- goddamnit, _Brock_ , -- as _Brock_ shoves Jared's jacket over his shoulders.

It's rushed and clumsy and neither of them are making any effort to stifle the sounds they make as they shed clothing, but Jared figures he can handle the mocking from the crew later. At the moment, he really doesn't fucking care. He watches the amulet catch on Dean's shirt and immediately reaches up, desperately making sure it stays while Brock wrestles with the shirt. He gets a strange look in the process, but then he has one hand wrapped around Brock's bare hip, tugging him between the wide V of Jared's spread legs and it slips away. Neither of them are completely naked, both with their jeans and boxers pushed down to about mid-thigh. But, it's enough and Jared's hand smooths from the guy's hip downward, fingers curling around the proud jut of his dick, stroking him from base to tip and back again.

Jared still has his other hand wrapped in Dean's necklace and he gives a tug, pulling Brock closer, slides his tongue past those amazingly full lips again.

"Jared--"

Growling sharply, Jared cuts off the sound, the _name_ , with a quick bite, teeth tugging at the flesh as his hand continues to work between them, thumb brushing over the crown, smearing the small amount of slickness there.

When he pulls back from the kiss, it's only to press his face into the guy's neck, tongue tracing a cord of muscle as he inhales deep, smells grease and leather and _Dean_. "Touch me," he says, voice a low growl as his hips buck forward. "De-- fuck, _touch me_."

Thankfully, the guy doesn't hesitate, just leans in closer, nearly smashing into Jared's nose as he lowers his head to look between them and gets his hand around Jared's cock. The sound Jared makes is almost embarrassing, sharp and ragged as he tugs at the necklace again, feels the sharp edges of the amulet dig into his palm. And it's not-- okay, it's not the _best_ handjob Jared's ever received, but it's definitely nowhere near the worst. Jared turns his head, feels the tickle of hair against his nose and bucks harder into the circle of Dean's fist.

And, yeah, _Dean's_ fist. That's all he can think of it as, all he can _feel_ , all this smooth, toned skin that he already feels he knows, the smell and the taste - Dean, Dean, fuck, _Dean_.

His own touch goes slack, but only so he can reach around to slide his hand down the smooth rise of Dean's ass, grip the flesh and pull him impossibly closer, tongue tracing the shell of Dean's ear. He grunts as Dean picks up the pace and then feels the guy's other hand sneaking between them to cradle Jared's balls, rolling and squeezing in time, a little rough, a little clumsy and somehow just fucking _right_.

And fuck-- _fuck_ , he's close. So fucking close. His head falls back, every muscle in his body starting to tense as he winds the cord of the necklace tighter, feels the beat of Dean's pulse against the back of his fingers, the flex of muscle in his other hand and it's just-- it's-- shit, it's so--

There's two quick thumps on Jared's trailer door -- _BANG! BANG!_ \-- and then a young, but loud voice: " _Hey!_ Hey, Brock, are you in there!?"

Jared's stomach leaps up into his throat and Brock jumps away so fast it's a wonder he doesn't strangle himself with the cord of Dean's necklace.

They both scramble to right themselves, Brock ducking down to hastily pull on Dean's shirt as he calls out, "Yeah, buddy! Just give me a few seconds, a'righ'?"

"Adam says he needs us soon!" comes the voice again, and _Jesus_ , Jared's really glad the kid didn't decide to walk right on in.

"Yeah, I got it!" Brock calls back as Jared struggles to find his own damn shirt. "We're putting the game away right now! Out in a few!"

There's a buzz still just under Jared's skin, his face flushed for a few different reasons as he watches Brock hurry back into Dean's clothes, tugging the necklace out to lie over his shirt and slipping into the jacket.

And, hell, just the _sight_ of that puts Jared right on the cusp of inviting the guy out to drinks or something equally ridiculous before Brock catches his eye, stopping him short. The guy gives him a smile, quick and hopeful and so completely un-Dean-like that Jared feels the ache inside him uncoil like a loose spring.

"Hey, we still on for hockey tonight?" Brock asks and Jared blinks, confused for half a second as he tugs his shirt into place.

"Uh, right- yeah. Yeah, definitely."

Brock's smile only brightens further as he flips up the collar of his jacket. "Great, see you then, man!"

The door's only open for a second, just long enough for Jared to make out Colin's face on the other side giving him a curious look before it's slamming shut again. He lets out a heavy breath then, shoulders sagging, and hears Sadie's quiet whine. When he looks over, both his dogs are curled up on his couch, eying him.

"Oh, shut up," he says, and grabs his beer.

:::

Jensen has no idea what the hell he's even reading anymore, but he keeps trying, methodically turning the pages and skimming over the words, but not really processing any of them. It kind of sucks actually, because he's pretty sure he'd be enjoying it if he could just fucking _concentrate_. He turns another page, frowns as the few words he manages to piece together only serve to confuse him more. Whatever plot the book has, Jensen's completely lost track of it and he's not real sure he has the energy or interest to really pick it back up again.

Fucking book.

Fucking Ja--

His thoughts get sidetracked when he notices a movement out the corner of his eye and glances over to see Colin gracelessly pushing himself up into Jared's chair, hair rain-dampened and cheeks reddened from the cold.

"Hey, buddy," he says, his irritation sliding away almost instantly.

Colin scoots back into the seat and then hunches forward, his legs dangling over the edge, arms perched on the rests. He immediately flashes Jensen an enigmatic grin. "Hey."

"Bored?"

"Nah," Colin replies, kicking one foot out and then trying to hook his toe under the footrest. "Just waiting for Brock."

And, hell, even hearing the kid's _name_ immediately makes Jensen go tense all over. It's completely ridiculous and he refuses to let it show, just smiles again, snaps his book closed and settles back. Relaxed. Completely relaxed.

"He with Jared?" he asks, just taking a guess. He hasn't seen either of them for awhile, not since lunch basically and it's not-- it's not like he _cares_ or anything, but he's noticed. Hard not to considering Jared's sheer _size_ ; the guy leaves a pretty massive hole whenever he disappears.

Colin nods and then lets out a heavy sigh. A sigh Jensen can tell right off the bat is _designed_ to make him curious. Jensen's seen this kid in action a few times, he _knows_ Colin's a better actor than that. Little shit.

But, hell, two can play at that game and Jensen refuses to take the bait. At least verbally.

"In Jared's trailer," Colin says, artfully wrinkling his nose and then scratching his chin. "Playing video games or... something. I guess."

And dude, this kid is _good_. He's telling Jensen a million things by barely saying _anything at all_ and it's not even fucking _scripted_.

"Video games," he says, eyebrows furrowing as he shifts in his chair, turns just a little to face him.

Colin cuts him a look, hair falling half over his eyes. (And shit, Jensen's really seeing Jared's point now- they couldn't have gotten a better Sammy if they'd figured out time travel and kidnapped a pubescent _Jared_.) "Loudly," Colin says with a knowing tone Jensen's pretty damn sure a _twelve year old_ shouldn't know how to articulate.

Something hot lodges in the pit of his stomach and works its way through his bloodstream. He clears his throat roughly.

And then Colin's entire demeanor shifts, his face breaking into a smile before he leaps off Jared's chair. "Oh, there he is!" he says with the kind of fake cheerfulness Jensen's always figured to be reserved for Disney movies and Broadway musicals.

From what Jensen can tell, Brock isn't anywhere in sight when Colin runs off, but somehow that does very little to make him feel any better.

:::

Adam calls cut and Jensen lets out a frustrated groan, rests back in the drivers seat with one knee nudged up against the steering wheel as he tips his head back. They're going on their sixth take already, and if Jared doesn't figure out how to deliver his goddamn line sometime in the next _decade_ , Jensen's going to cut off the guy's bloodline right at the source. It's nothing new, really- Jared flubs lines all the damn time and usually it's either funny or mildly irritating, but today... today, Jensen is just _really_ not in the mood to deal with it.

"Fuck, sorry," Jared grumbles beside him, scrubs a hand over his face and quietly mutters the line to himself. How he can always manage to get it right when the camera _isn't rolling_ , Jensen'll never know.

Jared takes a breath and opens his mouth to launch into the line again, but gets cut off by Adam. "Hang on."

Jensen swears his ass is starting to go numb.

"Sorry," Jared says again, quieter and clearly aimed for Jensen alone. It's a weird tone, though, like he's apologizing for more than just his apparent inability to properly form words and, frankly, Jensen doesn't want to hear it.

He shrugs, shifts in his seat and readjusts Dean's jacket across his chest. He can practically _feel_ Jared watching him, the sensation prickling under his skin and he grits his teeth, refusing to glance over.

"Still watchin' the game in your trailer tonight, right?" Jared asks a few seconds later, tentatively breaking the silence.

Jensen turns his head to squint at nothing in particular out the Impala's window. Shrugs. "Sure."

"Cool," Jared says and they fall into silence again.

Jensen has no idea what the hell Adam's making them wait for, but it looks to be something with the lighting and he concentrates on Gary moving a few of the rigs before he hears Jared lightly thunk a finger against the car's ceiling, scratch a nail over it, hum idly under his breath. Fidgeting. Fucking _fidgeting_. Jensen kind of hates when Jared fidgets.

Then again, he kind of hates _everything_ about Jared at the moment.

It suddenly pushes Jensen right to his breaking point and he turns, leans in toward Jared with a hand muffling the mic just inside his jacket. "You know, you might wanna work on being a little more discreet," he says, voice a hushed hiss. Jared's eyes widen and Jensen knows he gets just _exactly_ what Jensen's talking about and somehow, that only pisses him off even more. "Even a fuckin' _twelve year old_ knows what you're up to. Ass."

Jared blinks at him, color draining from his face, and Jensen has all of about two seconds to feel bitterly smug before Adam shouts for them to try the scene one more time.

:::

"Yeah, so that was. Uh."

Brock smiles up at him. "Awkward?"

Jared lets out a laugh, a rough rush of air and rubs a hand against the side of his neck. "Yeah."

The night's cool and a little muggy, a very faint drizzle of rain still hanging in the air. Jared shoves his hands into the pockets of his hoodie as he leads Brock through the maze of production trailers. The evening hadn't gone quite as Jared had hoped. While the game itself had been a good one, ending in overtime with an amazing fight between Hordichuck and some Wings player in the second period, Jensen had been a bitch the entire time, barely saying a word as he nursed one beer after another, practically glaring daggers at the both of them whenever they so much as gave a whisper of a cheer.

"Swear he didn't hate me a couple'a days ago," Brock says, sounding almost apologetic.

Jared winces slightly and shrugs, hating the fact that he feels like he has to defend _Jensen_ of all people. Especially considering Jensen really doesn't deserve defending. "He has his moments."

Brock is clearly unconvinced, but he doesn't argue at all, just cocks his head to one side as he slows to a stop and waits for Jared to do the same. Which he does. Brock's smile is slow, almost coy, and Jared's gaze is again drawn to those lips, suddenly remembering their exact taste and texture.

"So, uh," Brock says, turning green eyes upward. "Earlier..."

Jared swallows, feeling strangely more awkward than interested as Brock takes another step forward and licks his bottom lip. He's not wearing the jacket anymore, has a green pull-over on instead, 'Abercrombie' emblazoned in frayed lettering across the chest and a pair of khaki cargo pants. And, it's-- well, the guy looks good, Jared can't deny that, but there's something _missing_. Something he can't quite put his finger on.

"Yeah, that was--"

"Good," Brock says, cutting him off, his smile brightening slightly as he inches closer.

"Yeah," Jared replies because, well. It had been, that's not a lie. Not even close. Except- "We should probably, uh--" he starts, glances up briefly across the stretch of damp parking lot. He can't see it from here, but he knows Clif's waiting not too far off with the SUV and Jared still has to collect his dogs, has to get his ass home and into bed so he can do it all over again the next day.

Brock follows his gaze, glancing past his shoulder briefly before turning a smile on Jared again. "You two really live together?"

"Huh?" Jared tries unsuccessfully to follow the segue.

"You and Jensen."

"Oh. Yeah? He's... my roommate." It comes out kind of awkward for some reason, more like a question than an answer.

The guy's expression clears, smile still there, but dimmed as he takes a step back, shakes his head and lets out a soft sound. Kind of a laugh. Kind of not.

Jared frowns. "What?"

"Nothin'," Brock says, but Jared's pretty sure it's _something_. There's something in that look, suspicion or recognition or-- something. Jared isn't entirely sure, but he knows he doesn't like it.

Before he can say anything, though, Brock's tipping his chin up, gaze fixed just past Jared's shoulder. "Think your _roommate's_ waiting," he says and Jared's frown deepens further, the tone on that single word about as subtle as a Mack truck.

His voice is harsher than he'd really intended as a quick flash of anger licks up his spine. "Man, why don't you just say what you're tryin' to say?"

"JARED! Come _on_!"

Jensen's shout echoes across the lot and Brock just looks at him, cool as anything, cool as _Dean_. And just like that, Jared doesn't know whether to slug the guy or drop to his knees. He does neither for a long moment, still watching him with narrowed eyes. The only time Brock breaks the stare is to glance down at Jared's lips.

"Fuck, _JARED_! Get your goddamn dogs and let's _go_!"

With a gruff sound that feels more Sam than Jared, he turns his head enough to shout back, "Jesus Christ, hold your fuckin' _horses_ ," but half a second later he's stalking over to his trailer. He swears he can feel Brock watching, but he doesn't look back to find out for sure.

:::

The entire ride home is done in near silence. That by itself isn't too unusual, but this is different and they both know it.

Harley pants happily in the backseat, oblivious to the tension Jared swears he could cut with a fucking butter knife, his nose pressed to the window and breath fogging up the glass. Up front, Tony's listening to the Red Hot Chili Peppers, but it's barely audible from where Jared's sitting and he only recognizes it because he can pick out a few lyrics here and there. Jensen hasn't said one single word since they left.

They're only about fifteen minutes out when Jared's resolve suddenly breaks and he leans forward, one elbow roughly bumping Jensen's shoulder.

"Dude," Jensen grunts, sounding more sleepy than irritated.

Jared ducks his head, voice quiet, but ice cold. "The fuck's your problem?"

He sees Jensen blink, those fucking long eyelashes of his practically fucking _gleaming_ from the passing street lights. "Problem? Y'mean, aside from trying to get some shut eye?"

"You know what I'm talking about," Jared says, barely refraining from rolling his eyes, voice still hushed.

"I _don't_ , actually."

"Why the hell're you bein' such an asshole?"

"Huh?"

"Oh, cut it the fuck out, you know what you're doin'. What do you have against Brock?"

" _Brock_?" Jensen snorts. "Please."

"Dude. Seriously. You're bein' a total dick and you know it."

Jensen shifts slightly, craning his neck enough to meet Jared's eyes. It's dark, but Jared can still make out the familiar green. Something silently catches in his throat and he clenches one hand into a fist.

And Jensen just stares at him, not a word passing between them for what feels like _eons_ until Jared finally caves, falls back with a grunt and just _barely_ resists the urge to cross his arms over his chest.

Twenty minutes later, they pull into Jared's driveway. Jensen heads straight for his bedroom when they walk in and Jared makes no attempt to stop him.

:::

Jensen's seriously starting to contemplate the pros and cons of bumming a cigarette off Randy. The weather's at least cleared up, the sun peeking through the clouds as Jensen relaxes in his chair, idly reading over his lines for the next scene between Sam and Dean. And _not_ thinking about the mysteriously coincidental joint absence of Brock and Jared. Absolutely not.

Shifting, he pulls the cup of coffee out from the side pouch of his chair and swallows down the last dregs, the taste bitter and cold and not a little disgusting as it drags down his throat. He suffers through it with a grimace and then, as he lowers his head to suddenly see Colin standing directly in front of him, nearly chokes. Kid's like a fucking _ninja_ or something.

" _Je_ sus-- scared the shit out of me," Jensen says with a quick, startled laugh and Colin only grins brighter, bounces back on his heels. (Ordinarily, Jensen would be more careful about his language around a minor, but he's fairly sure he's just narrowly missed pissing his pants. Also, it's sometimes difficult to really think of Colin as any ordinary kid.)

"Have you seen Jared?"

Jensen's heartbeat slowly evens out again and he brings a hand up to wipe at the corner of his mouth. Shakes his head. "Not for awhile, no. Why, someone need him?"

Colin doesn't answer either way, only tilts his head to one side. "What about Brock?"

"Brock?"

There's a glint in Colin's eyes that reminds Jensen a whole lot of what he and Jared both look like when they're about to pull a truly stellar prank on someone and it's making him more than a little nervous. But Colin only nods, still fucking _smiling_. It's almost creepy.

Jensen frowns in response and squints past Colin, like he might find some kind of clue there of just what the hell's going on. But, of course, there's nothing special, just crew members milling back and forth like normal as they work to get the next scene ready, and not a single one of them so much as looking in his direction.

"Don't you have class or something?" he asks abruptly, starting to get more than a little weirded out. Not to mention irritated.

"I'm on a break," Colin says simply. "You know, I think I saw Brock going into Jared's trailer earlier."

Jensen feels one of his eyebrows slowly crawl up his forehead. If he didn't know better, he'd swear the kid's trying to rat Jared out for having an affair or something. Which makes no sense on a _multitude_ of levels.

"You got a point here, buddy?" he finally asks, shifting to sit up a little straighter, one hand propped on the arm rest of his chair.

Colin doesn't appear fazed in the least and just shrugs. "Jared must have an awesome video game," is all he says and then flashes that fucking Disney-esque smile again. "Maybe you should check it out."

Before Jensen can respond, Colin spins around and runs off, presumably back to his on-set tutor, leaving Jensen blinking after him, and absolutely _sure_ that Jared's "video game" is about the very last thing he ever wants to see.

:::

"No, leave it," Jared growls, reaching up to wrap his hand around the cord of Dean's necklace before the guy can pull it off. His other hand settles against Dean's side, just under his t-shirt, yanking him closer.

He gets a low laugh in reply, the sound muffled against his lips, and tilts his head back to sink into yet another hungry kiss. The guy rocks his hips forward, rubbing against him, damn near _riding_ him against Jared's couch and Jared can't help another groan, can't help the way his hand slides up higher, curves in to brush a thumb over the small nub of a nipple. His mouth cuts off Dean's response, teeth sharp against a full bottom lip before a slick, hot tongue pushes past his own and licks into him, wet and possessive. And, never one to shy away from a challenge, Jared returns it in kind, fingers still curled around the thin piece of leather as his other hand slides back around, fingers tracing down Dean's spine, slipping just underneath the waistband of his jeans. It gets him another quiet sound from Dean, sharp and needy, teeth scraping his tongue.

They're both still completely dressed and Jared's sweating, his shirt sticking to his back and shoulders, everywhere Dean isn't forcing it off him, strangely smooth fingertips sliding down his abdomen, resting just above the top button of his jeans.

The guy breaks the kiss a little abruptly and, with a rough grunt, Jared lifts his head and tries to follow those fucking _amazing_ lips. "Really like that thing, don't you?" he hears, words murmured against the curve of his jaw.

"Mmm," he says because, honestly, he has no idea what Dean's even talking about and he really doesn't care. He lifts his hand off the guy's ass to cup his face again, pulls that mouth- those _lips_ back to his own, licking greedily into him. He feels the gentle vibration of a laugh then, slightly strained as his hips arch up at the same time the guy rocks down, hard cock against hard cock through two layers of denim and at least one layer of cotton. It jolts another moan from him, rough and lost against a wide mouth. " _Fuck_ \- yeah..."

Dean laughs again, low and throaty, slick tongue sliding along the roof of Jared's mouth and then pulling back. "He know?"

Jared gives a frustrated groan in response, if only because talking is _really_ not what he's interested in right now. "Who?" he grunts, hand sliding back into the guy's hair, strands short and spiked between his fingers, barely enough for him to hold onto. He doesn't wait for a response and doesn't need one, just surges forward again, crushing their lips together, forcibly ending the conversation.

It seems to get his point across and the guy goes limp in Jared's lap, sinks into the kiss, their hips finally settling into a rough but heated rhythm of which Jared is in _complete_ favor.

Which, _of course_ , is why a second later, there's a sharp _BAM! BAM! BAM!_ against Jared's door, hard enough to shake the trailer's flimsy walls.

"JARED!"

Jensen's voice is instantly recognizable and they both pull back at the same time, eyes wide and breath ragged. Jared's gaze drops to Dean's-- fuck, _Brock's_ lips, red and bruised and feels something twist low in his gut.

"Shit," he breathes, one hand dropping to Brock's thighs to push him off as he wipes the back of the other uselessly across his mouth. "Yeah, hang on!"

Brock pushes himself off, quickly righting his clothes as much as possible as Jared hears Jensen shake the door handle. Jackass. Jared's suddenly seriously grateful he'd had the foresight to lock the damn thing.

"Dude, what the hell?" he hears Jensen grumble outside, followed by another hard _BAM!_ that rattles the walls. "C'mon, man! We gotta go over something with Barry!"

"I said hang _on_!" Jared shouts back, letting the irritation soak through his voice. Jensen may or may not know he's being a total cockblock, but either way Jared's not about to pretend to be happy with it. He smooths a hand over the front of his shirt, checking the buttons and then lets Brock help him to his feet before he starts tucking it into his pants.

Brock watches him, lips quirking into a smile that brings _Dean_ to the forefront once again, says, "Maybe next time," his voice low and promising. And, hot as it is, Jared feels suddenly that it's-- it's not-- that something's just--

Oh.

 _Oh._

His gaze drops downward, to the amulet resting against the front of the guy's shirt, the familiar face on it smiling up at Jared. Mocking.

Oh, _shit_.

"Y- yeah," he manages, swallowing against the sensation of his stomach doing a loose somersault. "Next time."

Three more violent knocks against his front door make Jared suck in a much-needed breath and he doesn't know whether to feel grateful, relieved or an impending sense of dread when Jensen shouts yet again. "Fucking NOW, dipshit. Jesus _Christ_."

:::

When Jared finally stumbles his way out of his trailer, Jensen barely even looks at him, just shoots him a tight glare and resolutely refuses to let his gaze drop any lower than Jared's belt. It takes a good deal more effort than he's really willing to admit.

"Nice whistle," Jared says. There's a hard edge to his tone that lets Jensen know he's not trying to be funny, which is frankly fine by Jensen since he's not particularly in the mood to laugh.

He gives a quick tilt of his head, motioning for Jared to follow him before he starts heading for a semi truck about twenty yards away and, miraculously, Jared follows without complaint or question. As Jensen turns the corner to duck behind the semi, he grabs hold of Jared's arm, yanking him away from any prying eyes and -- more importantly -- prying ears.

"What the _fuck_ do you think you're doing?" he hisses and Jared immediately shoves him back, shifts to pull his arm free, his eyes flashing dark when they settle on Jensen's.

"What am _I_ doing?"

"He's a _kid_ , Jared! Jesus!"

"He's _maybe_ three years younger than me!" Jared shoots back, taking a step forward, practically looming over Jensen. And yeah, maybe Jared has height and weight and muscle on his side, but Jensen's no fucking pussy and he's _not_ backing down. No way in _hell_. "Last I checked, that definitely makes him legal!"

Jared's voice has gotten louder and Jensen glances quickly over his shoulder, almost expecting half the crew to be standing there watching the whole thing. Luckily, that's not the case and Jensen relaxes a little, though his voice still drops to an angry hush. "Still doesn't make it _professional_ , dickweed."

"What the-- Maybe I _like_ him, Jensen. That so fuckin' hard to believe?"

"Oh yeah, because I'm _sure_ you two have a whole helluva lot in common."

Jared throws his head back and barks out a laugh, harsh and bitter-sounding. "Like you'd _know!_ Have you even tried talkin' to him since the first day, man?"

"Kinda hard to when he never leaves your fucking trailer!"

Jensen watches a muscle in Jared's jaw twitch and instinctively curls one hand into a fist. Waits. But Jared doesn't move any closer, just watches Jensen through narrowed eyes and, when he speaks again, his voice is lower. Quieter. An edge of something dark just behind it that makes Jensen's stomach immediately go tight. "Man, this better not be what I think it is. You know-- shit, I've _never_ kept it a secret from you, so don't you start pullin' this bullshit on me now."

Relaxing minutely, Jensen lets out a gruff sound, shakes his head. It's almost a laugh because, Jesus, Jared really has no fucking _idea_.

"Then what the hell _is_ it?" Jared suddenly sounds more frustrated than angry as he steps in close, near enough that a stray drop of spit lands on Jensen's chin. Jensen only tilts his head up, stubbornly refusing to look away and Jared grabs at the front of his shirt, pushes him back hard enough that Jensen feels the sharp press of the bottom edge of the semi truck against his back, cool metal seeping through the cotton of the damn track jacket he's still wearing. "C'mon, tell me," Jared sneers, giving another shove. "What the _hell_ is your problem?"

That's more than enough to make Jensen lash out, two hands finding Jared's chest and _shoving_ with nearly every ounce of his strength he possesses. Jared puts up very little resistance and, surprisingly, doesn't fight back, though he stays hunched forward as Jensen glowers at him.

"My _problem_ is that you're gonna give us a goddamn reputation, you shitheel!"

" _Us?_ "

"Yeah, _us_. Newsflash, Jared! This show is as much mine as it is yours. Meaning, the stupid shit _you_ pull is gonna fuck over the _both_ of us."

"And how is my sex life supposedly _fucking you over_?"

"You really trying to tell me you can't fathom how fucking the guest stars is a _seriously bad idea_? Especially one who's playing your _brother_?"

"Jesus Christ, we're _actors_ , Jensen!"

"I don't care _what_ the fuck we are! It's unprofessional!"

Even as the words pass through his lips, Jensen knows it's complete and total bullshit. _Hypocritical_ bullshit at that, and he's fairly sure Jared's not above calling him on it.

"Right, because _you've_ sure as hell never done it before," Jared snaps, stepping forward again. Eyes narrowing, he pins Jensen to the spot and presses in close, voice deep and dangerous and unlike anything Jensen's _ever_ heard from him when a camera hasn't been involved. Heat shoots down Jensen's spine, pulling low in his belly and he swallows tightly as Jared's breath ghosts over his cheek.

"Don't give me that bullshit, Jen," Jared growls, voice a harsh drag that nearly pulls Jensen to his knees. "Either tell me what the _real_ issue is or lay the fuck off."

Jensen barely has the chance to catch his breath before Jared's storming away, leaving Jensen shaken and pissed off and rock fucking hard.

:::

Despite the huge amount of tension that hangs between them through the rest of the day, he and Jensen actually manage to get their one scene filmed with little difficulty. (Jared chooses to believe it's because, contrary to what _some_ people seem to think, he _is_ a professional, thank you very fucking much.) If anyone else notices the fact that they're barely looking at each other in between takes, much less _speaking_ , they don't bring it up and, for that, Jared's damn grateful. He honestly has no clue what kind of lie he'd have to come up with if someone were to ask him about it.

It's well after sundown when Jared, motivated by his growling stomach, wanders back onto set and heads straight for the catering tent. He passes Colin on the way, the kid carrying a handful of Smarties close to his chest.

"Hey, man," he says, trying not to stare longingly at the multi-colored chocolate morsels. "I've been watchin' you some- you're doin' real good."

"Thanks," Colin says, bright and easy and popping a couple pieces of chocolate into his mouth.

"Startin' to make me worry about keepin' my spot."

Colin's smile grows wider as he chews, gives a quick nod. "Good," he says, all matter-of-fact, and Jared laughs, nodding his agreement as he reaches out to snag a few Smarties away from Colin. A warm hand lands on his shoulder and he turns to find Brock grinning at him a second before the guy reaches out to brush a hand through Colin's hair.

"Quit it," Colin grumps, knocking Brock's arm away with his free hand and then tipping his head back to funnel the rest of the Smarties into his mouth with the other. He doesn't drop a single one, his cheeks bulging as he starts to chew.

"Dude, one day you and me're gonna have a candy-eating contest," Jared declares, and Colin, mouth still full, immediately grunts and gives him a thumbs up.

Beside him, Brock lets out a soft chuckle. "That ain't gonna be real fair," he says, cutting Jared a quick look. Jared doesn't miss the way Brock's gaze drops to his mouth. "I'm bettin' you've had a lot more practice."

Jared also doesn't miss the double meaning and bites back a grin. "Kid's gotta start somewhere, righ'?" he drawls before catching a movement out the corner of his eye. He immediately goes tense when he realizes who it is, his teasing smile slipping away instantly. At least Jensen's no longer wearing that stupid red track suit which means Jared doesn't have to worry about trying not to stare at his crotch. Nothing like small favors.

"Hey, Brock, can I see you for a second?" Jensen says, not so much as acknowledging Jared's existence.

Brock blinks, gives Jared a quick, curious glance, and then flashes a smile at Jensen. "Yeah, sure. What's up?" he says before letting himself be led away.

And shit, but Jared has a _very_ bad feeling about this, his stomach twisting uncomfortably and lips curving into a deep frown. He has no idea what Jensen's up to, but he's pretty damn sure he doesn't like it and watches with narrowed eyes as they walk toward Jensen's trailer together. It looks pretty casual as far as Jared can tell. There's no indication that Jensen's about to beat the shit out of the guy or drag him off to be assaulted by vengeful teamsters. For all Jared knows, Jensen's just trying to give him some pointers, maybe on Adam's insistence.

But, he still doesn't like it.

"Wow, you're both kinda stupid, aren't you?" Colin says and Jared quickly glances down at him.

"Huh?"

There's a smudge of chocolate on Colin's upper lip and he tilts his head up to look Jared straight in the eye. "He doesn't like that you're always spending time with Brock and not with him."

Jared's starting to get the feeling he's completely missed something, brows furrowing as he shakes his head. "What're you talkin' about?"

Colin rolls his eyes, lets out a heavy sigh as he crosses his arms over his chest and just _looks_ at Jared. It's unnerving as hell, like looking straight into the eyes of a disapproving, miniature alter-ego.

"I think you'd actually rather be hanging out with Jensen," Colin says, his eyes narrowing, scrutinizing. "You look at him a lot."

"I-- what?" Jared laughs, shaky and weird-sounding. "I do not."

"Yeah. You _do_ ," Colin argues, his tone completely no-nonsense. "You don't notice because you can't see yourself, but you do. Like, all the time."

Jared arches an eyebrow and then lets out another quick laugh, shakes his head.

"You look at him and he looks at you, but you never look at each other at the same time," Colin continues, sounding weirdly exasperated before letting his arms drop heavily to his sides, hands on his hips. "You should probably try doing that sometimes. It's getting kind of annoying."

"What-- you're _twelve_!" Jared says because that somehow feels like an important point to make at the moment.

Colin only shrugs. "I'm an actor, I pay attention."

Quite honestly, Jared has no idea what he can say to that. Not that it even matters since his brain is still kind of stuck on the part where he's been staring at Jensen hard enough that a _twelve year old kid_ is noticing. And Jensen's apparently been staring back.

"I'm gonna--" he says, starting and then stopping, honestly not entirely sure what he's about to do. "I'll-- I'll be right back."

Colin just smiles and gives him another thumbs up.

:::

"So," Jensen says as Brock lets the door fall closed behind him. He heads towards the kitchen area, glancing back at the guy only briefly before reaching into the fridge.

Behind him, he hears Brock pull in a breath. "So."

"You want a beer or anything?"

"Nah, I'm good, thanks," Brock says and Jensen stands up, pops open a can for himself while Brock stands awkwardly in the center of Jensen's trailer, hands stuffed in the pockets of Dean's jeans.

"Go ahead and sit down," Jensen says, nodding at the couch as he heads over, taking a quick sip of his beer on the way.

Brock lets out a soft laugh, stilted and nervous-sounding, and Jensen arches a curious eyebrow. "Kinda used to Jared's dogs," Brock explains, and Jensen resolutely ignores the bizarre pulse of jealousy at so flippant a mention. "Just seems kinda empty in comparison, y'know?"

Jensen grins a little and shrugs, easy as anything. "Also devoid of slobber and dog hair," he points out before walking over.

"Yeah," Brock replies with another crooked smile, ducks his head to scratch the back of his neck. "And that's just Jared."

Jensen doesn't _quite_ laugh, though his lips twitch upward very briefly and he takes another sip of his beer.

After another moment of uncomfortable silence, Brock clears his throat and runs a hand along the thigh of his jeans. "So, uh... what'd you wanna see me for?" he asks, oddly reminding Jensen of some kid who's been called to the Principal's office. Even weirder is that it's almost fitting.

"No big reason," Jensen tells him and drops down into the adjacent chair, hunching over to rest his forearms against his knees. "Just-- someone brought it to my attention recently that I've been kind of a dick. Thought maybe I could change that."

Brock raises one eyebrow and then lets out a laugh, shakes his head. "Let me guess- Jared, right?"

Jensen smirks a little, tilts his head like he doesn't understand. "Jared what?"

"He's the guy? The one who's saying you've been kind of a dick."

Jensen's eyes narrow just a little and he presses his thumb against the rim of his beer can. "What difference does it make?"

Brock actually _laughs_ then, quick and loud and Jensen feels an itch under his skin, an inexplicable heat rising up to his face. "Right."

"It wasn't Jared," Jensen lies with conviction. He has no idea why that seems so important.

"Jesus, you two are _unbelievable_ ," Brock says with a quick, humorless laugh. "You know," he continues, leaning forward with a strange grin. Jensen can't figure out if the guy's ticked or actually _pleased_. It's more than a little disconcerting. "He's never lets me take the necklace off. Not _once_. And, he like-- he holds onto it every single time, just winds his finger though the cord and holds on while I blow him, did you know that? Amazed he hasn't choked me yet."

Jensen's grip on his beer can tightens, the aluminum whining sharply under the pressure. "Dude, I seriously don't need to hear this," he says, managing to keep his tone completely even, completely calm.

"Actually, you really do," Brock says, eyes flashing dark as he gets to his feet. "You seriously have no idea, do you?"

"No idea about _what_?" Jensen snaps, though he almost immediately regrets it. Somehow, he has the feeling he doesn't _want_ to know, but he kind of can't help himself.

Brock laughs again, a short, rough sound as he shakes his head, looks down at Jensen.

His eyes narrowing, Jensen drops his beer can on the coffee table and springs to his feet. "C'mon, man. You got something to say, then say it."

Brock follows the movement, but, to his credit, doesn't back down in the least, that annoying, cocky little grin still curving his lips even as Jensen glares at him. "It's not me he wants," Brock says and there's a 'dumbass' implied at the end that Jensen _really_ doesn't appreciate, but he manages to keep his mouth shut. For the moment. "You know, it's funny," Brock continues and Jensen glowers, failing to see how this situation is in any way funny at all. "I think he _wants_ to make you jealous- like, that's the whole point of him fucking me in the first place. But, I don't think _he_ even gets it. He's just as clueless as you are."

Not a single word of that makes sense at _all_ and Jensen doesn't know whether to laugh or punch the guy in the face. Except punching isn't really an option considering they still have one day of shooting left and the girls would _kill_ him for making their jobs harder.

"Man, that's the biggest crock of--"

He's cut off by a loud knock against his front door, followed by the sound of it swinging open.

Whirling around, Jensen's completely unsurprised by the identity of the intruder and another shot of heat pulses through him even as he glares. "Dude," he says in a voice that's way more Dean than himself. " _Knock_."

"I did," Jared points out and, okay, Jensen can't _really_ argue that. After all, it wasn't like they didn't just walk into each other's trailers all the time anyway. "Everything okay in here or--"

"Oh, we're just fuckin' _dandy_ ," Jensen snaps, and he sees something flicker in Jared's eyes, dark and-- Hungry?

And Jensen can't look away, not even when Brock pushes past him, their shoulders knocking together briefly. "I'm just heading out, actually," Brock says and Jared finally tears his gaze away from Jensen, glances at Brock like he'd forgotten the guy's even _there_.

"Oh," he says and then nods, steps back so Brock can get out. "Sorry, I didn't mean--"

"No, no, it's cool," Brock says, sounding bizarrely cheerful. "We were done talking anyway. I'll see you around, alright?"

"Uh, sure," Jared says. "Yeah. Later."

Jensen hears it all, the door to his trailer still flung wide open as his heart thumps violently in his chest. He feels completely knocked off balance, and when the door slams closed again behind Jared, it only intensifies. He's pissed off and confused and doesn't know whether to beat some kind of explanation out of Jared with his fists or-- or do something else. He doesn't fucking _know_ anymore.

"So, I talked to Colin," Jared says before Jensen can do anything at all and Jensen reels yet again. Blinks.

" _Huh?_ "

"Colin. You know, the twelve year old mini-me running around the place?"

Jensen relishes the quick flash of irritation this time and scowls, one hand clenching tight. "I know who the fuck--"

He doesn't manage to get the rest of it out before Jared's fucking _on_ him, all 200-plus pounds of the asshole crowding him up against the nearest wall. It's instinct to lash out and Jensen grabs Jared's shirt with both hands, shoving as hard as he can. But Jared's built like a fucking brick shithouse and _isn't moving_ , his face looming closer to Jensen's, breath hot against his cheek.

"You watch me," he says, all dark and dangerous, and all the blood just under Jensen's skin immediately slides _south_ , fast enough to make him dizzy.

"I-- _what_?" Jensen sputters, kicking a leg against the wall, squirming and trying to arch away, flailing for any kind of leverage he can manage.

It only serves to make Jared press harder against him, all solid muscle from chest to thigh and-- oh, _Jesus_ , that's definitely more than muscle.

"You watch me, Jensen. And I watch you and we do it so often that some little _kid_ has--"

"You have an obsession with Dean's necklace," Jensen chokes out, his breath quick as Jared blinks down at him. From this vantage point, Jared's nose looks _enormous_.

It's enough to make Jared shut up for a second so Jensen feels some spark of victory, though it fizzles away again when Jared barks out a laugh. "I _what_?"

"Brock told me," Jensen continues in a rush, trying to ignore the way his heart is still thudding violently against his ribcage, the way he can feel Jared's goddamn _cock_ through his jeans, long and hard against Jensen's hip. "He, uh. He said you won't let him--"

"That's not it."

"--take it off." Jensen's frown deepens and he tries to catch his breath. Feels like he's starting to hyperventilate. "Then what is it?"

"Dude, you listening to me _at all?_ " Jared counters and rocks forward, pinning Jensen to the wall with his hips, one hand dropping down to push under Jensen's shirt, rough, callused fingertips working up his bare side.

"Jared--"

"Not about the necklace," Jared murmurs, words ghosting over Jensen's lips before Jared's _mouth_ is on him, dry and rough and slightly parted, teeth catching Jensen's upper lip. It's only in surprise that Jensen's mouth opens to it, a gasp muffled by the hot slide of Jared's tongue along his own. And he's still trying to fight it, still grabbing at Jared's shirt with angry fists even as his head tilts back and he lets out a quiet, strained whimper.

Finally, Jensen manages to pull away, the taste of Jared still heavy on his tongue as he pulls in a gulp of air. "Jared--"

"What else he tell you?" Jared growls, the deep vibration of Jared's voice sending a jolt straight down Jensen's spine, Jared's breath hot against his cheek.

"Said--" Jensen tries, eyes blinking open as his head thunks back against the wall. "Said you wanted to make me jealous."

Jared's smile is slow, but heated, a low rumble of a laugh working free of his chest as his nose bumps against the curve of Jensen's jaw. "God, we're losers," he murmurs and Jensen wants to know just what the hell that's supposed to mean, but then Jared's mouth is locked over his again and Jared's sucking at his tongue and Jensen just doesn't fucking _care_ anymore.

He moans into it, body going slack against the wall, only held up by Jared's weight. When there's another loud bang against his trailer door that makes Jared jump away, Jensen nearly crumples to the ground, blood thrumming in his hears.

"ON SET IN FIVE!" yells a voice and Jensen's gaze catches on Jared, both of them breathing like they've just run a marathon.

"Gotta--" Jared starts and Jensen can't help staring at his mouth, lips shiny and slightly swollen.

"Yeah," he breathes, attempting to clear his throat. "Yeah, we gotta..."

Jared nods and Jensen tries to straighten his shirt, tries to breathe deep and force his heart rate to return to normal.

"We'll talk later," Jared says, and Jensen feels another quick flicker of panic as he nods.

"Yeah. Later. Absolutely."

There's something strange about Jared's smile, but Jensen doesn't have the time or mental capacity to analyze it; just gives one of his own, weak and shaky, before following him out the door.

They pass Colin on the way to set, the kid giving him a bright smile and, inexplicably, a thumbs up.

Jensen only blinks in return.

:::

People always think that if there's one thing Jared knows how to do, it's talk. And, in a lot of ways, they're right. Jared can talk for hours and not really say anything at all, can ramble long past the point of anyone else's interest, telling stories nobody cares about, stories he's already told hundreds of times before, can talk until someone shuts him up with the promise of food or bodily harm.

But _this_ kind of talk, the one he's supposed to have with Jensen is an entirely different ballgame. There aren't any jokes or stories to tell, no goofing off and shooting the shit. It's _real_ and _important_ and totally and completely terrifying.

So, Jared embraces the silence during the ride home that night, just settles in and wraps it around himself like a protective blanket. They can't talk about it in the car anyway, not with Clif and Tony in the front seat. So, Jared has time to think of what he _should_ say when they get home. He's pretty sure the ball's in his court to get the conversation started since he kind of doubts Jensen will ever bring it up without prompting, but everything he comes up with either sounds awkward and stupid or like some really horrible line from a bad porno.

By the time they make it to Jared's place -- Jensen heading straight to his room to get changed and Jared letting the dogs out one last time -- he's still no closer to figuring it out.

He wanders back into the kitchen and starts sorting through the stack of mail left out on the counter, a pile for himself and one for Jensen and one for junk. Jensen shuffles out of his bedroom moments later and Jared glances over to see his bare feet soundless against the linoleum floor as he makes his way to the fridge.

"God, man, I'm beat," Jared says, letting out a breath as he leans against the counter. It's not really a lie, but it's not exactly the truth either. Just something to say to kill the awkward silence between them.

Jensen makes a sound that Jared takes as agreement and pulls out a bottle of Dasani.

Jared watches as Jensen tips his head back for a drink, Adam's apple bobbing with each swallow, hand reaching up to wipe the corner of his mouth when he's done. Jared feels something close down around his windpipe as he realizes with sudden clarity that this is a conversation he can't afford _not_ to have.

"So, were you?" he asks before he loses his nerve, but Jensen only frowns at him, brows creasing above his glasses. It occurs to Jared that he's finishing a conversation from hours before and that Jensen's clearly not following. He clears his throat roughly, feels a flush of heat warm his face. "Jealous. Were you jealous?"

Jensen gets it then, his eyes widening only very slightly before he swallows again. "You really never let him take off the necklace?"

"I asked you first."

Jared watches a muscle along Jensen's jaw twitch.

When it becomes clear that Jensen isn't going to answer, Jared lets out a sigh and crosses his arms over his chest. "Jesus-- yeah. Okay? Yeah, I made him keep it on, but it wasn't, like... it wasn't some weird thing. I just-- I liked it, it was, I dunno, it just..."

"I was jealous," Jensen says, his voice quiet but clear.

It's not entirely a surprise, but Jared hadn't exactly expected Jensen to admit it and it strikes him dumb for a second, eyes going wide and heart skipping half a beat.

"So, uh... all that bullshit about the show and our reputations..."

"No, I still think you're a jackass for fucking a guest star, but--"

"But, it's okay if I want to fuck you."

Jensen's breath catches a little then and Jared watches his throat work through another swallow, his eyes going slightly darker when they latch onto Jared's.

"Because I do," he continues, needing to make at least that much absolutely clear. "I-- fuck, Jensen. I _really_ do."

Jensen doesn't say anything to that, just lifts his bottle for another swallow. Jared stares openly at Jensen's lips the entire time, watching them wrap around the bottle as he steps forward, narrowing the space between them.

"Not wearing the necklace," Jensen points out as Jared pries the water bottle from his hand and sets it aside.

"Told you," Jared murmurs, a slight grin tugging at his lips as he ducks down, drops a hand to Jensen's side and pulls him in. "Not about the necklace."

Jensen's mouth is cold and wet this time, and it opens to him immediately on a quiet moan. And, fuck, it's like someone's broken open a dam within him, unleashing a tidal wave that surges Jared forward. His free hand lifts to cup the side of Jensen's face, fingers bumping the frames of Jensen's glasses as he holds him in place and angles for more, licking into Jensen's mouth like it's the only thing in the world he's _ever_ really craved. Jensen's hands grapple at Jared's shirt, but he's not fighting this time, his hips rocking forward, knocking Jared back a step, but going with it. His mouth just as rough, just as demanding, breath hot against Jared's lips.

They stumble their way out of the kitchen, Jared's back hitting the wall, leverage to get them turned around, mouths locked together as they crash into Jensen's bedroom, nearly falling over each other along the way.

"Then what is it?" Jensen says as he topples backward into his bed, one hand tugging at Jared's shirt, fighting with Jared to get it off as he pushes himself back along the mattress.

"What?" Jared asks, distracted as he rips off his shirt and immediately falls forward, crashing his mouth to Jensen's again before he can respond. He can't keep back any of the sounds he's making, his hand slipping under Jensen's threadbare t-shirt, skimming over the muscle of his abdomen and up over his chest, can't help the self-satisfied smile when Jensen gasps from Jared's fingers passing over a nipple.

"Not-- fuck, Jared. Not the necklace then-- what? What is it?"

Jared answers with a growl, kneels and bends forward, fingers curling in the waistband of Jensen's lounge pants and yanking them down. "What d'you think?" he breathes, the sound a groan as Jensen's dick jumps free, hard and curved back against his stomach. Jared swears his mouth is watering and he doesn't even worry about getting Jensen's pants all the way off before he's leaning forward, one hand wrapping around him, tilting him up to his mouth and swallowing him down.

" _Fuck!_ Jared!" Jensen's hips snap up immediately, hard dick sliding along Jared's tongue and nearly gagging him. He glances up sharply, notices the bloom of red across Jensen's upper chest and immediately takes him deeper, cheeks hollowing as he sucks him down, starting a rhythm with his mouth and hand. A twist of his wrist and flick of his tongue, clumsy and wet.

The mattress shakes as Jensen punches his fists against it, arching and writhing beneath him. Jared sets his shoulders and focuses on the weight and taste of Jensen's dick, the throb of the vein under his tongue, the velvet-smooth texture. Jensen's starting to lose it, fingers curling into Jared's hair and hips thrusting in and out, clearly abandoning all attempts of being considerate as Jared struggles to follow his rhythm.

Jared's moan of encouragement is muffled by the snap of Jensen's hips and the sudden shudder as he comes completely undone, flooding Jared's mouth with a rush of thick, bitter warmth. Jared pulls back just enough to catch his breath and then bends down again to take what he can, come landing on his cheek and the corner of his mouth, dripping down his chin before he can catch it, his tongue trailing up the underside of Jensen's cock and up over the crown, hungry for every last drop.

He sits up finally, wiping at his mouth with the inside of his wrist and then licking off the taste there, heart pounding in his ears.

Jensen's still stretched out beneath him, legs spread and chest glistening with sweat, blinking up in a daze at Jared.

"This," Jared says, flicks his tongue out to lick another drop still lingering on his bottom lip. "This right here. This is what it's about."

He gets a groan in reply, watches Jensen's lips curl up into a grin a second before the guy starts laughing. "It's about my _come_?"

Jared blinks, and if he wasn't still so fucking turned on, he'd probably be blushing a little. Instead, he swats at Jensen's thigh and drops down over him. "Shut up," he growls, teeth scraping the curve of Jensen's jaw as he presses against him, still fully dressed from the waist down. Jensen's fingers graze down the center of his back and Jared noses up to his ear, nipping sharply at the fleshy lobe.

"Fuck, Jay, take off your damn pants," Jensen grunts beneath him, hooking a thumb under his belt. "Fucking _chafing_."

Letting out a snort of a laugh, Jared pulls back. "Oh, I'm sorry. Didn't realize you were so _delicate_."

Jensen wastes no time in smacking the back of his head, giving him a heated glare as his other hand shoves down between them, rough fingers tugging at the buckle of his belt. "Want you to know I'm only doing this because I don't want to feel like I owe you," he says. His voice is gruff and determined, but Jared can easily tell he's joking.

And if he's not, Jared's pretty damn sure he can figure out a way to change Jensen's mind.

They both fumble for a moment before Jared finally swats Jensen's hand out of the way and shuffles back, kicks his shoes off and drops his jeans and boxers to the floor. Jensen's sitting up before Jared's knees even hit the mattress, one hand gripping his arm, the other reaching between them to wrap around his dick.

"Jesus _Christ_ , Jared," Jensen groans, and the awe in his voice makes Jared feel weirdly embarrassed and smug at the same time. His hips buck forward, rocking into the tight heat of Jensen's fist, his weight falling to one arm as his other hand smooths up Jensen's sweat-slick chest.

"God, don't stop," he begs, not caring that he sounds kind of wrecked and desperate, hair hanging over his eyes as he stares down at Jensen.

"Not plannin' on it." Jensen arches a little for a better angle, jerking him expertly, slow and through and then quick and hard, teasing. He keeps his eyes locked on Jensen's, staring at impossible green around dark, dark black.

"Wanna--" he stutters, breath ragged and muscles going tight as he drops down further, lips brushing over Jensen's, not kissing so much as breathing him in, the rims of Jensen's glasses poking his cheeks. "Gonna let me?"

Jared isn't entirely sure how Jensen seems to know exactly what it is Jared can't manage to say, but he seems to, nodding slightly. "Yeah," he breathes, voice nearly a whisper. "Yeah, Jared, I'm gonna let you."

And that's it, all Jared needs, that one whispered, heated promise and his hips shudder forward, dick pulsing as he comes over Jensen's fingers, shooting onto Jensen's stomach and chest in thick, ropey strands. Though he tries, he can't keep his eyes open through it, his head dropping forward, Jensen's hand wringing him dry before he completely collapses, trapping Jensen's hand beneath him.

Immediately, Jensen lets out a grunt, the sound loud against Jared's ear. "Okay-- Seriously-- _Not_ into asphyxiation, Jay," he says, one hand flailing out to punch at Jared's arm.

It takes a moment for that to break through the fuzzy, sated cloud of Jared's mind and then he laughs, slow and heavy, gathering as much energy as he has left to push himself up and roll off.

"That was..." he groans, still struggling to catch his breath, head tilted toward Jensen.

"Quick," Jensen says, a slow grin curving his lips as he looks over at Jared.

Jared's laugh is loud and full-bodied, completely unashamed. "Yeah, well," he says once he's calmed a little, his grin still wide and aimed entirely at Jensen. "I think it's been building for awhile, so. Y'know."

"Likely story," Jensen murmurs, but his grin is soft and kind of stupid-looking, and Jared can't help reaching out. Thumb brushing along that full bottom lip, pressing it against Jensen's teeth and then tugging down slightly, fingers trailing down Jensen's chin and neck, feeling the steady thrum of Jensen's pulse under his touch. He rolls forward, his hand smoothing further down over Jensen's chest as he props his head on one hand, knocks his knee against Jensen's.

"You were seriously jealous?" he asks, the grin on his face spreading wider across his face.

"Fuck you," Jensen sighs, but still smiling as he twists and shoves at Jared's shoulder. "I'm not the one with a _necklace fetish_."

"Dude, how many times I gotta tell you it's not about the necklace?"

"Maybe until it's actually true?"

Jared growls and rolls forward, his mouth latching onto Jensen's again, flicking past the seam of his lips and then in, slow and thorough as his hand curls over Jensen's side. Jensen sucks on his tongue and pulls back with a soft breath.

"Wanna know the truth?" Jared asks, bumping his nose against Jensen's playfully as he ghosts another breath of a kiss over his lips. A slow grin spreads across his face as Jensen nods, his eyes turning serious behind the black rim of his glasses. "Truth is," he says, voice hushed and low as Jensen's teeth find his bottom lip, tugging gently and soothing the scrape with his tongue. "Mmm... truth is I really wanna fuck Dean."

Jared's subsequent laughter is muffled behind a pillow and two hundred pounds of Jensen crushing him into the mattress.

:::

On set the next day, Jared brings Colin a bucket of Smarties and three bags of assorted chocolate and candies. He brings Brock NHL '09 and the promise of tickets to an upcoming Kings game down in LA.

"Man, you really didn't have to," Brock says, slapping the game case against the heel of his hand.

Jared only grins, gives a loose, easy shrug and glances up to see Jensen watching him from a few yards off, pad of his thumb against his mouth as he smiles at Jared. "No," he says, turning his attention to Brock again. "No, I really did."

 **end.**


End file.
